


Needle

by InsertUserNamePlease



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Sansa and Arya having a sister moment, a lot of people complain abut the ending but i will never get over of the sansa arya s7 relationship, cause you cant stop me, this is just autofanservice, what the hell was that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 23:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20281846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertUserNamePlease/pseuds/InsertUserNamePlease
Summary: They were so different. Sansa loved sewing while  Arya loved Needle.





	Needle

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic in this web site and english is not my first language, so any constructive criticism is welcomed.  
It takes place after the Nk fight, but before going to Kingslanding.

Sansa enjoyed being at Winterfell. She enjoyed walking past down the rooms, enjoyed watching her people running around. She enjoyed the fact that everything was alright, and she loved to make sure of it.   
She took a particular liking to staying at the corner of the high stairs, a place where once Littlefinger annoyed her now is a place where Sansa just watches the people being people in peace, it gave her life, she got hypnotised every time she saw the Little kids running or watching the adults playing with them. Her heart was filled with an unexplained warmth that—ironically—refreshed her soul.

“So this is what being a Lady means” She thought to herself, she was now at the same place her father was, the difference is that she had the intention to stay there, proud and unbreakable.   
Weak snowflakes started to fall down, finding a place in the fire of her hair, just like Winterfell enlightens her soul. Maybe that was why her hair was red.   
“Septa Mordane used to tell us that staring too much is not a good trait” A voice behind her back spoke, she did not need to turn round to see who it was, she could recognize Arya´s voice anywhere, always, no matter the place or the moment.

“Well, I wasn´t staring, I was observing” She remarked. Arya smirked

“What´s the difference?” She asked.

“Staring is moved by lust, observing is moved by concern” Of course, her time with LittleFinger had made her knowing the difference. Arya just kept walking, and Sansa followed, just walking within the walls of Winterfell, together again, they arrived to the sewing room, Sansa took a sit in the chair she used to sit when she was a kid. And for once, she felt Young and innocent again, like the time didn´t run. Like everything was the same as it used to be. She could even swear that she thought that her mother was about to enter the room. She felt Septa Mordane´s hand in hers, congratulating her, but it was just an illusion, and what are illusions but sweet poison for the soul?   
She reached the needle and started sewing, Arya just sit on the floor, despite the time she spent in that room, she didn´t even felt like anything was her property, not even a chair, she just started to sharpen her knife, the one that she had given to Sansa in the battle of Winterfell.  
It had only been a few days after the battle, yet she could feel the cold hands of the Night King around her neck, like a necklace made of ice.  
It felt nice, it remembered that she was still alive—no—that she defeated death. For Arya, defeating death and living were different thing, just like staring and observing were different to Sansa.  
Sansa´s sewing somehow had the same rhythm that Arya´s sharping her knife. They were like the sun and the moon, opposites, yet both of those shone bright in the sky. Equal but in a different way.  
Arya looked at Sansa´s movements, and for a moment she saw that kid again.

When they were together, it felt like nothing had changed. Arya would give everything to feel like this forever, but she was well aware that nothing lasts for too long.  
Sansa opened her mouth, but no word came out of her, she didn´t want to ruin the moment, she wanted to feel this moment a little bit more, so she kept sewing. Arya put her knife in her pocket, and the sound of the needle stabbing the thin fabric was the only sound that remained.  
It was a subtler sound, more elegant, more delicate.  
Sansa´s blue glare redirected to Arya, and the sewing stopped as well.

“The Dragon quee- "

"Please, we were having a moment, don’t ruin it “Sansa was not interested in The Dragon Queen, she wanted to stop talking about her, she wanted to feel in peace, at least for a moment. Arya couldn’t help but smile.  
“I think you wouldn´t look bad in the Iron Throne” She said, that cough Sansa by surprise, she once dreamt about being the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, thank God that the life is not a dream, and the dreams will be forever dreams, and she was grateful of that, Sansa wanted to curse the person who stated that dreams and happiness were synonyms. Nightmares were dreams as well, but people weren’t invested in acknowledge that. Her home was in Winterfell.  
She was too attached to the North, her, the only stark child born in winter, the daughter of Winterfell, the snow was part of her soul. A part of her, she did not want to belong to anyone, but she did not mind belonging to somewhere.   
“But there must be always a Stark in Winterfell” Arya finished. That made Sansa smile. She tossed the needle aside.  
“And that knife of yours wouldn’t look bad in Cersei´s throat” She told her. If someone had to kill Cersei, Arya was the option that delighted Sansa the most. Arya just nodded, she was going to leave soon to go King´s Landing.

“I´ll make that true” She stated. Maybe it was just Sansa´s hair reflecting in Arya´s eyes, or maybe it was Arya´s burning determination.

“I don´t doubt it” 

The silence filled the room, but it was a comfortable silence. The Stark sisters enjoyed every moment of it. But Arya broke it.

“Sewing seems hard” She started.

“Cutting people´s throats seems hard as well” She was honest. Sansa wanted to slice LittleFinger´s throat, but Arya was way more experienced. A clean wound that made him shake in fear and pain. A man who wished to sit in the throne in the South died pleading for his death at the feet of the Lady of the North. A fitting death.

“Thanks, but that wasn’t what I meant” Sansa was good at reading people. But Arya was, is and will always be an enigma for her.

“I mean that” She pointed at the sewing suitcase “Could you? you know”  
Sansa muttered a subtle “Oh”   
“You want me to teach you?” Well, it made sense. Septa Mordane wasn’t there to crack her fingers if she did it wrong. “Okay”

She made Arya sit right next to her. This room was theirs now, they could build new memories in there. Even if the time was limited.

Arya grabbed a needle, but not the needle she was used to grab, this one was not made to use in the battlefield, but is isn’t like she minded that right now.  
Sansa resumed her sewing, Arya just stared. Sansa smiled 

“You shouldn’t stare, you said it yourself” Arya´s cheeks turned a subtle shade of red.

“It´s just that I don´t know how to start” 

Sansa smiled and let out a weak laugh.

“Just stick in in the pointy side”

Arya couldn’t have stopped the smile that adorned her face.


End file.
